The Way we are
by Lys de Pluie
Summary: Created. Twisted. Messed up. As if any of us was sane in this dumb world. -- Collection of drabbles, mostly T or M-rated and angsty, around very various nations.
1. Ice Red ' Norway x Hong Kong

_AN : First drabble out of quite a few (or so I hope), all kinda wicked just like this one.  
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_Call me twisted if you want, I actually kinda am. I honestly need to start writing some fluff, it's one of the best things out there._  
_This was thrown together thanks to the French Hetalia angst generator or however you want to call it. This is a drabble, not beta'd, and I'm not fluent in English [read : mistakes must be everywhere]. I have no idea what category to put this one in. Romance / horror ? Or maybe more angst ? Or 'be careful this author has serious issues' ? (There should totally be a rating like this, by the way)_

_The sentence was "Norvège laisse baigner dans son sang Hong-Kong and ensuite lèche ses doigts ensanglantés", which, translated, gives us something along the lines of "Norway lets Hong Kong die in his own blood and then licks his bloody fingers"._

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_Story itself :_

_Warnings : Blood, somewhat violence, Hong Kong being physically abused, Norway being crazy, no historical background (that I am aware of).  
Title : Ice red  
Characters : Norway and Hong Kong_

_Rating : T / M_

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'Hngh....' was the only sound that would leave his mouth at the moment. His body was sprawled recklessly over a thin blanket of white satin, his arms, legs and body forming an 'X' while his head was wobbling from left, to right, to left, to right, to left – where was he ? He couldn't spot him, yet he knew he was here, just waiting for his victim to pass out. Second after second, minute after minute, he felt like he was growing more and more tired.

Numb.

Cold.

_Dead_.

"Ha..." he whispered more than whimpered, turning his head once more, stretching his neck to find the one who had forced him into all this. His eyes were fluttering, and he could swear it wasn't anything of the agreeable sort. He couldn't feel his left hand anymore, and tried to move his right one.

Numb.

Frozen.

_Broken_.

It sent a shiver down his spine – the coldness. He thought he had been used to it ; his country was not that warm.

Country ?

City ?

Colony ?

What was he again ? He could think about it now ; it's not like he didn't have the opportunity to do anything beside being scared and lying down on the fabric that was ineluctably reddening.

Tired.

Icy.

_Numb_.

Now that he had time to think about it – what had he spent his life doing ? Working. All this economy had been the only thing he always had been doing, and it wasn't even improving as much as he would have liked it to. He was cold, the hot liquid that was slowly flowing out of his body suppressing every sensation he could have had enough strength left to process. He felt even colder. Colder. Colder. _Colder_. So fucking cold he couldn't stand it, and shivered. That was when a soft laugh could be heard not too far away from him. He tried to have a look behind him, when his movement was stopped by the finger that had suddenly appeared on his forehead, and heard a calm 'Ssh'. The touch lingering on his skin caused something that could as well have been liquid ice to flow through his veins, from this fingertip to his hands to his stomach to his feet, all the way – back and forth – until he had the feeling he couldn't ever possibly be warm again. The finger moved, from his jawline to his neck, to the cuts on his torso and arms, to the gaping wound next to his heart. It rested there for a moment, and then pressed hard. He let out what could be compared to a drowning man's scream, for he had not enough energy left to actually cry out loud.

"So, little Hong Kong... How does it feel ?" he put a second finger onto the large wound, moving both of them around, a wicked smile blooming on his lips. "The cold..."

The Asian couldn't even respond to this ; he was already too numb for anything beside dying. He didn't need to give a response anyway, just tried to glare at the cold nation sitting next to him. Said country squirmed when he lifted his hand up in the air, looking at it as if he had never seen it before. The blood was dripping down his fingers, along his arm and into the white sleeves of his immaculate shirt. His gaze grew blurry, his eyes turned white, his smile faded. With those same fingers, he traced Hong Kong's face, brought his closer, and then backed away. He let his fingers linger just a little while more, and then brought them to his own lips, and licked them. Slowly he tasted the iron, making sure not one single droplet of blood got lost. When he had made sure than his hand was clean, he leaned toward the shorter man once more, resting his head on the other's chest.

"Let it stay, let it be the way it is." he whispered "Like this, between dead and living." he looked up to see the still emotionless face of the other nation, mirror of his own. "Like this, forever." He kissed him. "Be mine, little Hong Kong. Norway loves you." He smiled once more, never showing any sign of sanity – as if any of them was, in this world. "Loves you, loves you."

_Cold_.

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The end is kind of abrupt, huh ? I still like it though.

Next one should be a France/Canada/Germany something.

Review ? :D


	2. Bite Down Harder ' Spain x Romano

_AN : Second drabble out of quite a few (or so I hope), all kinda wicked just like this one._

_I know, I said I was going to make France/Canada/Germany next but I kinda got carried away... OTP... *blushes* And the phrase was just so appealing... I already started to write it though, so it** should** be next._  
_I'm going to crawl under one of our seashells of shame now, good bye._

_This time, the sentence generated was "Italie du Sud s'amuse à rouvrir les plaies de Espagne and continue", which, translated, gives us something along the lines of "South Italy has fun reopening Spain's wounds and continues"._

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_Story itself :_

_Warnings : Blood, pretty much violence, Spain being physically abused, Romano being crazy, almost no historical background, non-con sadism (?).  
Pay attention to when Country/Human names are used, too. Especially towards the end. You totally know what I mean *winkwink*  
Title : Bite Down Harder  
Characters : South Italy & Spain  
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_Rating : M_

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"AH !" Scream.

_Smile._

"Please..." Plead.

_Chuckle_.

"Roma... Roma, it hurts !" Tears.

_Laughter_.

Arms bound together, one body sitting on another, no movement except for the mouth and the fingers that were running wild on the tanned skin – pinching, tracing, sometimes scratching, but mostly just lingering. The mouth was occupied with another task though. Hungrily seeking for wounds, scratches, crusts of dried blood, forcing all these to come back to life. Fingers on supposed-to-be perfect skin, setting it on fire, calm contrast with the devilish task the other body part was currently performing.

He bit down at one point – stomach – a long-forgotten injury coming back to life, making the body under him squirm and another sob escape its lips. Blood started to well up, the mouth licked and sucked, the teeth grazed over the _so desirable_ skin. Such a perfect play, of blood and death and tears, and all those centuries of pain that were showing up again. Memories showing up. Memories they– he wanted to forget.

"Ro-Romano..." voice broken with tears, throat clenching violently at the sudden effort and lack of air. "Please... Stop... _Yo..._" hesitation, in search of the words to say. "_ No Puedo_..."

"Stop ?" That smirk was back, the man whimpered. "When _they_ asked you to stop, did you ? When they told you it hurt, did you care ? When they were under you, screaming, crying, _pleading_... Were you listening ?" He straddled his hips to make his own position more comfortable and immobilize the man under him. "Little Roma is no more, Spain, you should know." He leaned closer. "Sometimes you should just _think_." Bit the neck. "Spain is strong, but Antonio..." he ground his hips against the elder's "Antonio is... so terribly _weak_..." He then sucked at the wound, as if to wash the pain away and make everything _better_. His hands then moved lower, hesitantly – almost shyly, pulling at the belt but never pulling it off – his fingers played with twitching muscles, his mouth with hardened nipples. "The most disgusting..." he pressed his hand down completely at the front of Spain's pants at the words, feeling the bulge and just as slowly rubbing against it. "Is how you react to all this shit." He sat up, looked into Spain's bleeding eyes with an expression of utter disgust when silent Spanish prayers where spoken, and felt around the body with his hand. Seeking wounds. Finding them.

They were easy to tear. Just apply a little more strength at this certain point ; if the scar hasn't entirely healed yet, it will even bleed. Stretch the skin, sometimes Spain... no, Antonio, would let a whine escape. Oh –so pathetic !

It was the fate of nations : live – and die – forever. They were the only ones here able to do such a thing.

Another scream, another squirm. Another bite, another lick.

"Lovi..." was a strangled murmur, voice hoarse from crying, body numb from struggling. "_Por favor, te amo, no quiero che_-"

"_Ti amo, sì_. _Ti amo, Antonio. O Spagna ?... Non so..._" he scratched at another old scar, made it bleed. The Spanish man did not react this time. "It's sad... What you have become, I mean." Emerald eyes looked up at him. "You had no problem raping Chaska if I remember correctly... You know that name, right ?" he trailed his tongue along the Spaniard's ear, murmuring Italian words he couldn't quite understand in between. He tried to speak "Lovi... You know it, I changed, I regret, if I could I would... go back..."

South Italy smiled.

"_Sì... ma non puoi_..."

He kept on doing his macabre act of revenge for those he didn't know. Why was he doing this ? It felt right, he couldn't say more.

Wouldn't say more.

So many bruises... ! When he remembered the way he had gotten Spain... Antonio... to be here, lying down, under him, so weak and _fucking begging him to stop_... He just had needed to kiss him, the other had followed, blinded by confidence, not even the slightest bit of mistrust, even when he had tied his hands together, slowly pushed him onto the bed, all the while keeping eye contact, had forced him onto his back, had-

He really didn't know anything about him, in the end...

Italy ?

South ? North ?

_Where's the difference ? Both are so desperately weak.._

_Oh, you mean little Lovino ? Little Feliciano ? You can do whatever you like to them ! Italy is a sad country indeed !_

_You are mine, now. Obey._

_It's you._

_It's me._

_You're so useless...._

He had honestly thought that Spain was different, that he didn't just see him like something you possess, but in the end – unsuspected facet showed – he was just like everyone else, driven by that unsatisfactory desire of conquest, passionate desires, disgusting hate, rotten morals.

He was just as disgusting. To think Lovino had fallen for such a coward... Romano was disgusted. Because in a way, they both were ; Lovino, well, you knew – and Antonio in a desperate attempt to _forget_...

Forget he was not allowed to.

Not as long as they both were nations.

South Italy bit down harder ; Antonio cried.

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Epic translations

**_Yo... No puedo.._.** (_esp) I... I can't..._  
_**Por favor, te amo, no quiero che-** (esp_) Please, I really like/love you, I don't want that- [Since I'm only a very very novice person in Spanish, I don't really "feel" how to translate this...]  
**_Ti amo, sì. Ti amo, Antonio. O Spagna ? Non so... _**(_It_) _I love you, yes. I love you, Antonio. Or Spain ? I don't know..._  
**_Sì... ma non puoi... _**(_It_) _**Y**es... but you can't..._

Little end note :

In my head-canon, Spain tries to forget about his conquistador past, though he knows he never will.  
_Chaska_ is my own name for the Mayan Empire, I dunno. It is a native American name and has the meaning of "Sioux name given to the first son born" [Yes, it's a boy. I don't think Spain would have cared, though. Hm --' ]. Since my history knowledge is pretty much limited to what French education system teaches (which is not a lot), I didn't feel too comfortable writing about Spanish invasions and all, this is why it stays very vague. I'm willing to learn, though. If you want to add some historic notes in a comment, do so ;)

**Reviews** ? :D


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